Sincerely
by McMuffinDragon
Summary: Post Finnish War, Sweden writes a letter to Finland but receives no reply. SuFin


Sweden sat at his desk; he set his pen down and looked at the letter he'd written in the flickering light.

_Dear Tino,_

I miss you terribly but hope everything is alright with Ivan. I hope you are at least safe.

Things have been tumultuous, but I am well.

He creased his brow at that; it was a lie. Sweden was in an odd state of decline, run by a Frenchman who wanted him to marry Norway. _Berwald_ felt even worse, hollow and alone. He skimmed over his outline of recent events and considered rewriting the message, but writing a letter seven times was simply absurd; he would leave it.

_I'm writing to tell you, in plainest terms, that I love you. I'm not sure how my life will go without you, but I'm certain it will not be well._

Respond soon, tell me how you are. If you are hurt, if you are unhappy, I _**will**__ bring you home no matter what._

Sincerely,  
Berwald

He picked up the candle on the desk and dripped a little wax onto the paper before closing it with his seal. The letter sat on the desk as Sweden blew out the light; he would send it away in the morning. The Swede lay in bed alone until the sky began to lighten, then he rose and sent for a messenger to go to Finland.

Russia stood in front of Finland's house, waiting for him to return. It seemed that the Finn had left for the day. That was fine, of course, he was a Duchy, not one of Russia's direct subordinates. Finland was free to go out, just as Russia was free to show up for surprise visits.

As the Russian hummed to himself in the late summer sun, a young Swedish messenger rode up on a small black horse. "Excuse me, sir," The lad called, dismounting and tying his horse to a low tree branch. Russia turned his head with a smile to show he was listening. "I'm looking for mister Väinämöinen, are you he?"

"Oh, no," Russia shook his head politely and wondered what a Swede was doing looking for Finland, "I'm waiting for him; he's not here."

"Do you know when he will be back?"

"Sadly, I don't," Russia replied, shrugging. "Why do you need to see him? Is it something urgent?"

"I have a letter for him," The young Swede explained, producing the item from his rucksack. Russia caught sight of Sweden's personal wax seal. His face grew dark but abruptly changed back.

"I can give that to him," he said, holding out his hand. The messenger seemed conflicted for a moment but handed the paper over and left with his thanks. "You're very welcome," Russia called as the young man rode away. Once he was alone again, the Russian tore the letter into dozens of pieces and tossed them to the wind.

Finland returned home soon after; he'd taken a hike to a nearby hill to wonder if he could see all the way to Sweden. Such a wish was foolish, but it didn't stop the Finn from doing it once in a while. "G-Good day Russia," He said as he approached the house.

"Hello," Russia calmly smiled back to Finland nervous grin.

"The, um, the door isn't locked, you know," Finland noted, stepping up to head inside with Russia looming over him, "You could have gone inside." He wondered if suggesting that would be the best idea.

Russia considered it; the letter could have been left on the doorstep had he not been waiting. "It was no problem," He said, "The weather is very nice."

"Yes," Finland agreed, stepping aside to let his guest in, "It is."

Sweden waited patiently for a letter from Finland. He built an ordinate dining table and chairs in an attempt to distract himself, yet every time a messenger returned to the kingdom, he would loom over the lad and wait for possible news.

He waited for weeks; he waited for months; he waited for years until his boss announced Sweden's news marriage to Norway.

Meanwhile, Finland had waited for a letter from Sweden. He had considered writing one himself but had no idea what he would say. The news of Sweden's new union with Norway made Finland's heart fall; it seemed Sweden had moved on without so much as a proper goodbye.

"What's wrong with you?" Norway asked as he got into bed alongside Sweden who was lying on his side staring at the far wall, waiting for sleep.

"Miss m'wife," He grunted back, barely turning to look at Norway.

"Your wife?" Norway scoffed, "_I'm_ your wife now, you heard your boss." He leaned down close to Sweden. "You'd better start treating me like one." His tongue found the shell of Sweden's ear and traced it seductively.

Sweden turned his head slightly to look on Norway. Without his clip, he looked almost like someone else, if he would only...

"Smile," Sweden said gruffly. Norway gave him a curious look, and Sweden stared back. After nearly a minute, Norway caved and let his lips curl up. Sweden's heart skipped a beat or two as he grabbed the other man's shoulders to kiss him.

His touches were passionate, feverish, but intended for someone else entirely. Norway believed they were all for him until a hushed name passed Sweden's lips, "Finl'nd." They both froze, one in embarrassment, the other in anger, both highly aroused.

"You know," Norway said pointedly as they lay facing opposite directions, "If he hasn't written to you by now, he never will. He's probably doing fine without you; he's probably _happy_ to be gone."

Sweden stared blankly into the darkness. Those comments, though they were made purely out of spite on Norway's part, had drifted through Sweden's head for years now. He had tried to dismiss them, but in the dark of every night those fears and doubts awaited him. They wrapped around him and pulled him into an uneasy sleep.

The remainder of their union could be described as frigid at the least. Sweden retreated into his mind and lied to himself, saying this would end soon or it was a strange dream. More than once, he had sat at his desk and picked up a pen to write another letter only to shove everything to the floor and hold his head in his arms.

What could he say? He had said everything possible in the last letter and had received nothing.

Norway meanwhile sat grinding his teeth and making the occasional snide remark that cut Sweden deeper than Norway was aware.

Decades passed this way, until Norway left.

All his digs at Finland's prosperity weren't entirely untrue, Finland was alright on his own. Russia seemed to trust him, and Finland started to feel like more of a nation little by little. His language came back slowly though he never forgot Swedish. Russia saw strength and identity building in his Duchy. He took Finland's army and shoved the Russian language in his face. Finland scowled and would make comments in his own language to whatever Russia said.

Industrialization came and made Sweden cough. War came and Sweden cut himself off. His neutrality perfectly expressed how empty he felt. A global conflict was none of Berwald's concern; he did not care.

As Russia was losing his stability, Finland's actions were usually met with severe punishment. Nursing a gash in his forehead or badly bruised ribs, Finland would think of Sweden. He wanted to write for help, but Sweden couldn't always come running to his every beck and call. This was his responsibility.

The news of the Finnish independence reached Sweden before Christmas, now he knew all was lost. As a new republic, Finland picked up a pen and began to write:

_Dear Berwald,_

I'm so sorry I didn't write to you for so long. Things have been...a little hectic for a very long time.

But now, I'm independent, free. I can't remember the last time I was so happy about something. I think my first act of independence will be to visit you very soon. That is...if you'll have me. We have a lot of catching up to do.

Sincerely,  
Tino

Before he could visit, before Finland could even send the letter, civil war struck, and the letter wound up in some great fire. Finland broke down; his house was in shambles, and he laughed hysterically at the ashes and rubble in the dead winter. Sweden's neutrality kept his back turned as Germany and Russia enabled Finland's struggle. The blood in the snow, the reds and the whites, Finland found the symbolism sickeningly suitable.

There was no official treaty in the end as Finland began to shakily put himself back together. Others made choices for him, gave him pats on the back for getting through, and he received a fragile democracy in the end. He held on to that little power with all his might. Another great war swept the continent, and Finland fought again. Sweden hung his head and gave anyone whatever they asked for.

And in the end, the Nordic Council emerged, and the two were finally given a chance to see each other again. Finland bounded into the meeting room in Copenhagen and found Sweden sitting at the far end of the table.

"Sweden," He called, taking the open space beside his longtime companion. Berwald froze with his papers in hand. He went back to reading hesitantly. Finland wondered what was wrong. "How've you been?" He asked, placing a hand on Sweden's arm.

The Swede stood up so fast his chair fell backward. Finland watched him leave the room in a rush and got up to follow, but Norway approached him. "Hello," He said softly, righting Sweden's chair and seating himself in it, "How is everything?" They knew the honest answer on both sides was 'mediocre at best, thank you.'

"I'm okay," Finland muttered, sitting back down slowly, "What's wrong with Sweden?"

"I have no idea," Norway replied, that was partially a lie.

After waiting for Denmark to show up, they had a productive little meeting, which entailed mainly Denmark outlining all his ideas for things they could do in the coming years. Finland sat staring at Sweden who had reseated himself on the other side of the table. His eyes were hollow and pale, and his skin was ashen.

At the end of the meeting, Finland watched Denmark and Norway leave, Iceland and Greenland too. Then he cut Sweden off at the door. Finland had forgotten how frightening Sweden was up close. With all his momentum gone, the Finn stood in the doorway shaking. Sweden dropped his gaze and looked to the side, trying to hide. "W-What's wrong, Berwald?" The smaller man finally managed to say.

Sweden only sighed. "What?" Finland took a step closer to him.

"Wrote ya letter," Sweden mumbled with his eyes trained on the floor, "'N'ya n'v'r wrote m'back. Th'gt ya hated meh."

"What?" Finland repeated, shaking his head, "You thought I hated you?" Then the first part of Sweden's comment hit him, "You sent me a letter?" He asked urgently, "When?"

"R'ght aft'r ya l'ft," Sweden replied, glancing slightly at Finland.

A look of doubt came over his bright face, "I never got it," Finland said softly. Sweden knit his brow, and Finland quaked at the look. It was too late now to find out what had ever happened to the letter; the messenger was long dead. "Sweden, are you okay?" Sweden raised his eyes and found that he had started crying. "What was in the letter?"

The Swede looked down to Finland and his concerned expression. With rough, steady hands, he held the smaller man's face gently and bent to kiss the lips he'd spent so long away from. Finland made a little noise of surprise at the contact but relaxed into the kiss with a smile; he'd felt for so long that he'd been left behind. Miss communication could be a huge problem with Sweden.

Sweden opened his mailbox and sorted through the usual fare. Bills and notices, then he found something new. A letter from Finland.

_Dear Berwald,_

I'm so sorry that your letter got lost all that time ago. I thought you didn't want to talk to me, so I didn't write you either. Well, I tried, but I didn't know what I should even say to you. I wonder how much trouble we could've avoided if I'd only taken the chance. Things might have worked out a lot differently. Again, I'm really very sorry.

It's so good to see you again though; I've missed you so much. There were a lot of times that I needed you and...I hope you needed me too (I know about Norway, by the way). We have a lot of catching up to do; I have so much to tell you. Hopefully we can become close again like we were, but remember I'm independent now, so no "Wife" business, ha ha.

I'm not sure how things will go now, but I'm sure we'll be well.

Love,  
Tino

Sweden allowed himself a private smile as he rushed back inside to write a reply.


End file.
